As We Prayed
by muchasfandomas
Summary: He was used to the carefree Sam, who cried and cared about nothing. And he found himself a fool to think that she was all right again. Nothing would ever be all right. Nothing could ever be the same.    titled after the poem by Edgar A. Guest
1. Chapter 1

She sat on the couch in silence, knees to her chest, barely breathing. In fact, if she could consciously _not _breath, she would. She couldn't even grasp what had just happened… there was so much blood… _so much blood_… she didn't even get to see her.

He walked into the living room, holding two cups of hot chocolate in his hands. He didn't know what he felt. All of his emotion had been drained over the past five days. He took a seat on the couch and held one out to her, but she didn't budge. She continued to stare at the television with empty, dark eyes.

"Sam," he whispered, emotion slowly flooding back to him, "it wasn't your fault. I hope you know that." Sam shook her head slowly, words rising up to her throat.

"But it was." She felt distant from herself. She wondered how she could ever learn to live with a body that betrayed her. He took a breath.

"These things are so common, Sam… but… the most important thing is that _you're _still here. We could… try again…" at that, her head snapped towards him, and she was finally staring at her husband with tear-filled, angered eyes.

"What, and _kill _another one? Did you ever think that this is some cruel, twisted sign from God? That I'm not meant to do this? Didn't we always know that I _couldn't_ do this?"

"No." his eyes were hard, his voice the strongest it had been all week. "I _never _thought that."

She continued to stare at him with tear-filled eyes until they started pouring out. She looked away, ashamed, but he pulled her close to him and continued to kiss her repeatedly.

"I almost lost you, Sam! Goddammit!" he cried as she wailed into his shoulder, shaking uncontrollably.

Life had changed as they knew it.

Sam had changed as he knew her.


	2. Chapter 2

Her desk was filled with condolence cards, prayer cards, every kind of depressing card she could ever imagine. She knocked them all off of her desk and into the garbage pail. If they wanted her to work, she couldn't have such _stupid_ distractions all over her desk. She wanted a normal life. She had her time to mourn, but a month was more than enough time to get over something she never even had… something she never _will _have.

The phone rang abruptly, making her jump, but she sat and answered the phone as she had done for the past two years.

"Estere Fragrances, Samantha Bensen speaking."

"Hi Sam. It's me." Beat. Sam flipped through some paperwork absentmindedly.

"Whatup Carls?"

"I just wanted to see how your first day back at work was going."

"Well… I've just started… like twenty minutes ago. So it hasn't really been a-going yet."

"Right, right! I'm sorry, I should have waited to call!"

"Nah, that's all right. You sure brightened up my day. Everything's good."

"Are people being nice to you?"

"Why wouldn't they be?"

"Oh, I don't know… I'm just nervous."

"But… it's _my_ job."

"I know! Are you nervous?"

"Um… no."

"Oh, okay. Well, do you want to do something later?" ah. Sam thought this phase had ended… the Let's-Keep-You-Occupied-So-That-You-Don't-Have-To-Think-About-Your-Dead-Baby phase.

In Sam's opinion, Carly cared a bit _too much_. She was sick of the emotional talks. She wanted to move on, but no one seemed to want to let her do so. Someday, she wanted to be able to have a good night's rest without interruptions, without the nightmares. She wanted to be able to eat because she wanted to, not because she had to. She wanted to be able to at least _think_ about making love with Freddie again without the fear, regret, or even the guilt. But none of those things seemed possible whenever people tried to force her to have "fun", because she felt guilty about that too.

When she first found out that she was pregnant, she wasn't happy or excited, as any _good _future mother would have been. She was scared. Shitless. She wasn't ready, and all she wanted to do at twenty-two years old was have fun. She had just gotten the privilege to get drunk last year. She wasn't ready to give that up. She wasn't ready to give up the late nights spent with all of her old juvie friends, or the endless shopping sprees with Carly during which she spent a good amount of her and Freddie's paychecks (which Freddie would often moan and bitch about later). All she wanted to do was have a damn good time. She wasn't ready for a _baby_!

But now… thinking of wanting _any _of that ever again made her feel… like a total bitch. Sam was silent for a long while, so Carly added, "Did you get my card?"

"I'm not reading any of those damn cards so you could just forget that!" she snapped. She didn't mean to. She was just sick of it.

"Oh… did other people send you 'have a great first day back' cards, too?" Sam blinked at the cards in the garbage pail. She once again felt like a total bitch.

"No." she bent down to the garbage pail and searched for Carly's card. She found it, with a lollipop taped inside. If she remembered how to, she would have smiled.

"A lollipop, Carls?" oh crap. Lollipops. Who would eat a lollipop? Children. Dammit.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Sam! I didn't think! It's just… they always made you happy… crap! I'm so stupid and so sorry!"

"Nah, don't worry about it. I didn't even think of that." She lied as she cursed herself for thinking.

"So… do you want to get something to eat later?" Carly's voice shook as she spoke. Sam was about to let her down easy… but she couldn't do it. She couldn't let Carly down after she already felt guilty.

"Sure. I'll meet you during my lunch break."

"Great! Oh… and Freddie sent you a card, too. He wanted me to tell you." Of course he did. He knew her too well. She sighed.

"Yeah, all right. I'll see you later then."

"Bye, Sam. Love you."

"Back at cha, kiddo. Adios." And so she hung up and knelt beside the garbage can, searching for Freddie's card. She came across a "Thinking of You" card, and since it seemed to be the only one without a depressing theme, she opened it.

_Hey There. _

_Have fun at work, screw the jerks you hate, drink all the damn coffee you want, and remember to come back home to me. I'd miss you too much if you didn't. _

_I love you,_

_Freddie._

She cracked somewhat of a smile before putting the card in her pocketbook.

Maybe she was healing after all.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ha, Sam, doesn't that guy look like Gibby?" Carly nodded her head toward the man, and Sam turned her head in his direction.

"Hm. There is quite a resemblance." Sam took a spoonful of soup and scooped it into her mouth. It was burning, but she didn't care. She took a painful swallow and continued to look at the Gibby look-alike. He had a Mohawk and wore shorts that he _should not_ have been wearing. Yep, the guy almost _was _Gibby. But as she continued to stare, a woman followed the Gibby man... with a stroller…

She looked away, cursing herself for not even being able to look at _one _baby when she never even got to look at her own. Carly frowned.

"I'm sorry."

"Forget it." Sam forced another spoonful into her mouth, and Carly sighed.

"Do you ever think… about trying again?" Sam took a breath, looking up at her friend with a blank expression.

"We weren't even trying the first time."

"I know… but do you think you would?" Sam forced herself to look back at the stroller. She didn't dare look at the baby.

"I don't think we should. I don't think _I _should." Carly reached out her hand, but Sam pulled hers back.

"Sam, you would have been a _great_ mother."

"Yeah, well, that's what you think… not what…"

"Not what who thinks, Sam?" she was quiet for a bit, and coughed a little before answering.

"God. I've got no other explanation for it."

"You can't think God has done this, Sam!"

"But obviously my body can't do this for _some _kind of reason!"

"You heard the doctor! He said it shouldn't happen again, that you'd be fine!"

"_Shouldn't_, not wouldn't. We can't do this again, not to another one."

Carly's frown deepened. She knew Sam wanted it… she _knew _it.

"Just try it, Sam. I want to see you happy again."

"I could be happy with Freddie."

"_Just_ Freddie, Sam? _Think_ about it." One, two, three. Sam finally looked Carly in the eyes, shaking her head.

"It's too soon."

But Carly had planted the idea in her head.

Only it soon wouldn't be just an idea. It would eventually grow into a full-speed tornado.


	4. Chapter 4

She sat with her hands folded, knees shaking up to her chest. Freddie stood in the kitchen, fixing them both cups of coffee as she sat with her bittersweet thoughts. It had been _so long_. Maybe he would think she was crazy. Maybe he wasn't even ready. But… six months… it had been long enough, hadn't it? She couldn't take it anymore. She just couldn't.

She truly thought that as time passed, people would _forget_. They would move on with their lives and stop giving her saddened glances or "comforting" chats. But they never _did _stop. They never _did _forget. People at work still brought breakfast in for her, as if she was too fragile to do it herself. Carly still brought up the subject numerous times in random conversations, as if Sam wasn't _allowed _to forget. That's what it felt like… she wasn't _allowed _to forget. She honestly didn't know what to do with herself.

She still wasn't able look at a child without wanting to run and hide. She still wasn't able to feel like everything would turn out fine, because others kept reminding her of the present… of what she didn't have… of what she never _could _have…

But what if she proved them wrong? _All _of them? What if she successfully delivered the one thing that everyone seemed to think was keeping her down? She was tired of the sleepless nights, desperate for them to stop… Maybe the only way was to…

"Sam, what's wrong?" He dropped the two mugs onto the coffee table with a bang and ran to sit at her side. He felt his heart drop. Her eyes were red and glazed, her cheeks drowned. He hadn't seen her this upset since…

She slowly turned her head to look at him. She held his stare for a while before starting.

"I don't feel right." His heart plummeted further, and he gasped for breath.

"What, do you need me to take you to the hospital? Is something acting up? What do you need?" she shook her head vigorously.

"No, no, no! I don't feel right! I don't feel human! I just feel like a thing!" she spat out while coughing on her own tears. His heart broke. At least it wasn't as bad as he thought it was, but it was still bad for her. He wasn't used to this.

He was used to the carefree Sam, who cried and cared about nothing. And he found himself a fool to think that she was all right again. Nothing would ever be all right. Nothing could ever be the same.

He took a breath and swiped a bit of her hair out of her face, looking at her with wet brown eyes.

"I feel it, too. This is normal, Sam. It's okay for us to feel this way."

"But I'm sick of it. I'm _sick_ of people treating me like a failure!"

"No one thinks you're a failure, Sam, I can promise you that."

"That's what it feels like… to _me_." He gulped, his throat dry. He really couldn't fix it this time. But she looked at him with fierce eyes and added,

"I want to try again."

He opened and closed his mouth, not sure what to say. Her eyes widened, waiting for his response. She held her hands out, as if to say, _Say something! Anything!_ It took a while for him to do so.

"Sam… I don't know if that's such a good idea…"

"Why not?" she shrieked, anger and determination in her eyes that he had never seen. Freddie stared to feel annoyed with her, so he took one long, ragged breath.

"Gee, I don't know, maybe because you almost _died_? I can't do this again, Sam! Not again!" she sighed, her voice calmer now.

"Dr. Harris said that there's a very low probability that it would happen again. It won't happen again."

"You don't know that."

"I won't let it happen."

"It's not in your control, Sam! It never was!" he stood up and angrily stomped back to the kitchen. Anger seethed in the pit of her stomach as she followed him and slammed her hands on the counter.

"Fine. It wasn't, but _this _is! I can decide whether I want to try for another kid or not!"

"I believe it's a _mutual _decision."

"You don't know what it's like, looking at these little freaks everywhere and _knowing_ that I'm not gonna have that! This can be something under my control! We can do this, we _need _too!"

"And you don't think it's hard for me, HUH?" he shrieked, his face reddening. Sam froze. He had _never _yelled at her like that…

"You don't think it's hard for me to see that? You don't think I see that, and think about how even if we _tried_ that again, I can loose my wife? I can loose everything I have? You don't see the predicament that I'M IN? Every day when you _curse_ God for taking her away from us, I thank God for leaving me you! You were gone twice! _Twice_! And both those times I prayed and begged that if he just left me you, I would never _want _anything again, so he left me you, and that's that."

Sam swallowed, tears in her throat, and coughed a few times before approaching this.

"Freddie, I love you. I do. In fact, you and Carly were the only people I thought I ever could love, but then… _she _came and went… and I _felt _it. I felt _incomplete_. I felt like a damn alien in my own body. And I don't think I can ever stop feeling that way until…" she froze again when she saw Freddie's angered, tear-streamed face. He was shaking his head over and over.

"You can't ask me for this, Sam…"

"Dr. Harris can help us, I talked to him and he'll monitor me and…"

"NO!"

"I NEED THIS, FREDDIE! GODDAMMIT, I NEED THIS!"

"AGGGGGH!" He knocked everything from the counter onto the floor with a _CLANG _and covered his hands with his face, gasping for air.

"Please, Freddie, please, please, please…" they both stood in silence for a while before he got the courage to respond.

"If we do this, you're getting a new _damn _doctor. And we're not doing _shit_ until we get a good one, understand?" he spoke in a low, trembling voice as he lowered his face from his hands. His eyes were hard, but she ignored that, nodding feverously while wiping her tears.

He walked over to her from behind the counter and grasped her face in his hands, wiping her tears with his own thumb.

Curse Carly… _she _had to be the one behind this.


	5. Chapter 5

He never thought it'd come to this. He never thought he'd want an escape. But he did. And tonight, that was what he got. He never thought he'd ever stay at work an extra two hours just to escape the horror called his life. But he did. And he didn't feel too great about it either.

As he trudged up the small yet never-ending steps, he felt a loss for himself. He never thought he'd let this win, but he did. He had lost the battle. He was practically done. He had given up. But then again… there was a twinge of hope.

He stood in front of the door for quite some time. This was the first time he had ever had to face her like this, and possibly not his last. He could make this a routine. If it could keep him together… keep him sane…

Put the key through the hole. Turn the knob. Nothing has truly changed. It's impossible to run from something that you'll always come back to.

He stood in the archway, staring at her red complexion before taking his two steps in her direction. Her head turned. He locked the door. This time was different… yet the same… it would never really change.

"I called you." She spoke into the silence. He nodded, swallowing hard and taking his seat on the couch.

"I know." He stared straight at the wall in front of him, not paying attention to Sam's devastated glare.

"You missed it. I peaked."

"I had to stay behind to finish up these last few segments for tomorrow's morning show." He finally looked at her, his eyes soft, her eyes hardened.

"I see." She slowly took her eyes away from his and stared at her hands for a few long, silent beats. He couldn't bear it. She knew it. She saw right through him. But he had to stay strong. He had to convince her somehow that this wasn't the best thing for them to do. She finally shrugged.

"We could just do this now… just in case." He took a breath. Was he really going to succumb to this once again?

"Sam, I'm sorry but I'm _really_ tired. Can't we just wait until next…?" her glare stopped him. It was dead. He didn't know her anymore.

"Okay." Her voice was hard and foreign. She stood up and stomped her way to the bedroom without another word.

He quietly screamed into his hands, not sure what to do. But he swore that if he came home _one more time_ to a damn negative test, he'd find a way to torture both Dr. Harris and Carly Shay for assuring her that she could do this. They didn't know anything. They didn't know _shit_!

He remembered when he used to enjoy this, when Sam was much less like a dictator and more like a… wife. He missed the nights when they would make love just for the heck of it instead of only for a purpose. He hated how every time they ever did it, it had to be _planned_ at an exact _time_. This wasn't how he imagined the rest of their lives, but apparently it was what she had wanted… and she wasn't going to let them stop until they achieved their goal.

He honestly didn't even know if he could like _any _kid that he _did_ have with Sam after all the crap she put him through. He was truthfully disgusted with the process, and no one seemed to want to tell Sam exactly what she really needed… a damn shrink. This wasn't stability, and he was a fool to think that he could ever give her that simply by conforming to her "needs". He was sick of it. He wanted his wife back, but he was almost ready to throw in the towel. Dr. Harris never could give him a solid solution, and neither could Dr. Phillip, or Dr. Yorich, or Dr. Jacobs. He was ready to quit. He never thought he could hate sex this much.

But then he thought again. Sam probably wouldn't let him touch her for a while after this incident, and he still needed something to tell him that they were still together… or that she was still together. He knew it was a sick and wrong way to go about it, but he felt he had no other option. And then when Sam confirmed that she wasn't pregnant and was once again left in a state of complete depression and devastation beyond repair, he would have the satisfaction of being able to make two phone calls.

"Failed pregnancy number eleven. Thank you, Carly. Hope you're fucking happy."

"Failed pregnancy number eleven, you dipshit son-of-a-bitch Doctor. If my wife looses anything else aside from her mind, I will fucking kill you."

This had become the regular routine. Come home to a depressed wife, call the two bitches who were responsible, do it all again. This is what his life had become. Nothing but routine.

He walked over to the bedroom, crossing over to the right side of the bed where a still and solid Sam lay. He sighed, tapping her lightly on the shoulder.

"Sam?" she didn't respond, but he knew she was listening. "Do you want to?"

She nodded, raising bloodshot eyes above the covers. This wasn't healthy… wasn't healthy at all… but he didn't know what else to do.

She scooted to make room for him, and he squished in beside her, kissing her fully on the lips before she had a chance to stop him. She wouldn't let it last long.

And just as he had expected, she was already removing every article of clothing that she could get a hold of. He helped her with the rest, closing his eyes tighter as he imagined how this could have went if everything was normal…

"_Could we take it slow?"_

"_Slow?"_

"_We've been going too fast lately. I hate it, Sam. It's not fun anymore. I still love you, don't you know that? Don't you care?"_

But in reality, he knew the answer. She knew it, but this wasn't about him anymore. This was about something _she _thought was bigger than him. _Better _than him. He would never be enough, and this was the only way he could have her….

He hadn't even noticed that they had been halfway done when he was mid in his thoughts. She instructed him to do things, and he did so automatically, without thinking. He closed his eyes again, trying to remember the last time this had gone right.

He couldn't.

He'd give anything to feel the least bit human again.


	6. Chapter 6

***A/N: Sorry it's been so long! But I'm thankful that many of you found this story and have subscribed to it/my authorship/ reviewed it. Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter, more to come. Thanks for the support =)**

Another order. Another file. Another boring day at her boring job. Nothing but routine. And now another phone call to which she'd give the same response.

"Estere Fragrances, Samantha Bensen speaking."

"Hello there, Sam. This is… uh… Doctor Harris." Silence. Why the hell was he calling her? And especially _at work_?

"Oh. Um, hello."

"I apologize for calling you at work… it's just, your husband seems very unwilling to communicate with me… perhaps rightfully so. Can I take up just a few minutes of your time? If not, you can return my call in the evening."

"No, no. I'm free. What's going on?"

"Well… uh… first of all, I'd like to ask that you inform your husband that if he continues to leave threatening messages on my voicemail, we will be forced to take legal action… this is just a warning." Silence once again. Threatening messages? Well, whatever Freddie left him, the douchebag sure as hell deserved it.

"What comes second?"

"I want you to know that I have never stopped working on you, but I always come to the same result. Nothing proves you to be infertile."

"So I've heard. Get to the point."

"I think I may have two possible doctors who might be able to better diagnose you… there is gynecologist Vivian Vorx. She specializes in infertility and is one of Chicago's highest esteemed. The second… bear with me here… is andrologist Michael Worvich. He's been working in Seattle for…"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Andrologist?"

"Yes… it could be possible that _you_ aren't the one responsible."

Her jaw dropped. There was no way… it couldn't be him!

"No, no, no. First of all, infertility is not the problem for _either _of us! I was the one who conceived and miscarried, if you recall."

"No, you've heard numerous times that infertility is not the problem. But _something_ is, and there is such a thing as bad sperm." She took a breath. She had a choice. Two choices, in fact.

"Nothing's wrong with Freddie."

"Wouldn't you rather know than not know?"

"Well even so, would we be able to get an actual _solution _this time? We've been working too damn hard and I don't want it all to go to waste." Silence again. She knew it, she could feel it.

"In-vitro seems to be your best option, and you need to consider it."

"I don't need to consider that. I want a child, not a lab concoction."

"If you truly want a child…"

"Then I'll get one on my own damn terms." He coughed, she bit her lip in aggravation, silence. Finally…

"What are their names again and how do we reach them?"

She stared at the phone for some time. Should she warn him? She couldn't decide what she wanted.

On one hand, she knew in her heart that she loved him too much to let him bear the pain of being _responsible_ for all of this… deep in her heart, she couldn't stand the thought of him living like she did every day.

But on the other, she _lived _for it. She _lived_ for something that would make him feel what she felt every day, since he seemed not to give a damn anymore. He didn't care about having children. She knew that. She could feel it whenever she was in his presence… how detached he was… how he just didn't seem to care anymore. Not about the process, and not about her. Maybe he needed this… just to give him enough of a kick.

_Riiiiiinggggggg_

_Riiiiiiinggggggggg_

"Sunshine Seattle Studios."

"Freddo, it's me." She hadn't called him at work in so long… he was tempted to ask who this "me" was… but instead she heard him breathe a worried sigh on the other end.

"Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine… well, I actually… I don't know if things are fine." Silence… he started to speak very slowly, as if he was frightened by her possible answer.

"Well what could be wrong?"

"I scheduled an appointment with another gyno." Sigh. Frustrated sigh.

"All right. Anything else?"

"And an andrologist."

And now there was a cough.

"I'm sorry… a _what_?"

"Man-doctor. Y'know, someone to check if you're Handy Dandy…"

"I know what it is, Sam, but what I'm wondering is who's genius idea this was…"

"If I tell you, you'll get angry."

"I won't."

"You will."

"Just tell me, Sam."

"Dr. Harris." Beat… one… two…

It was only a short matter of time before Freddie started to call Dr. Harris by every name in the book, not leaving anything to Sam's imagination. She huffed, flinging a pen across her desk.

"Freddie, whatever, I'm done talking to you. If you want to talk it out, you can call _him_."

"Oh, I'll call him all right! And I'll give him…"

"You can't, he'll have you arrested and then we have no chance of making this work… but whatever, it's not like you actually care…"

"You did not just say that! If I do say so myself, Sam, I care a little bit _too _much! But of course you wouldn't give a _shit_ if I actually did get arrested for beating the living crap out of that douchebag! You know what, Sam? Why don't you just get your fix somewhere else? You obviously don't care about having a kid _with me_, so why don't you just do this by yourself? That way you wouldn't have to experiment on your shitty husband. Does that sound like a plan?"

Sam felt a gut wrenching pain in her chest and found herself heaving and drowning in tears. Many hostile exchanges had passed between them in recent months, but not in so many words. She couldn't remember feeling so hurt… so _violated_… by the one person she trusted the most.

"Fuck you." She blurted through her heavy sobs as she slammed the phone back to its receiver. She threw her hands over her face and cried. Cried so hard she didn't know if it could ever stop.

The phone rang numerous times within the passing minutes, but Sam ignored it. She ignored him, even though she could still hear all the messages through her husband's strained and devastated voice.

"Sam, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean a word of it, not a word! Sam, please pick up…"

"Baby, please! I didn't mean it… I didn't mean it…"

"I didn't mean it, didn't mean it, didn't mean it…"

"We do really need to talk, though… Sam… I love you…"

"Please just make sure to come home, even if you hate me… I don't blame you…"

She finally got the strength to press the busy button in the midst of all her sobbing. She hadn't cried in so long….

So maybe she'd just let it out just this once, and go back to normal… to business… she'd do what she'd have to…

And then she would never cry again…

Maybe… or maybe not.


	7. Chapter 7

***A/N: Once again, sorry for the delay. I was quite unsure how Sam was going to come around, but iOMG got me in the Seddie mood ;) **

"Freddie, how many times do I have to tell you I'm sorry? If I had known she'd go this far…"

"I don't know. Maybe enough times to bring this magical stork around. You know, the one you've implanted in her imagination."

"I—never meant—to hurt you guys! You know I never would hurt you on purpose, Freddie! I'm sorry!"

"Well sorry's not good enough. Look, Carly, Sam will be home soon and I really can't waste my time trying to comfort you and tell you everything will be okay. I have bigger problems to deal with, thank you very much."

"I'm sorry… I love you." Freddie sighed. Carly had apologized numerous times… but again, sorry just wasn't enough.

"Love you too… I'll call you if things work out."

"If? It's really an _if_?"

And at that, he hung up. Carly was responsible for his suffering, so why shouldn't he be responsible for just a little bit of hers?

It was the first time in months he was actually home _waiting _for her. Before their terrible conversation this very afternoon, he would have never _dreamed_ of coming home early. Work was his only way out.

But tonight he wasn't going to avoid this. He wasn't going to avoid communication, and then just give her what she wanted. He was going to get her back… no matter how hard he had to work to do so.

He heard keys fumbling, and the door started to turn. He started to hyperventilate. What if this didn't work? What if it backfired? What if he didn't have the guts to pull it off?

But she opened the door with bloodshot eyes and froze. He froze. He hadn't seen her cry in so long… and he didn't even feel guilty for being happy to see her like this. She coughed and cleared her throat, gaining that dead appearance back in her eyes.

"You're home early." She commented, putting her purse on the couch and moving on to the kitchen, grabbing herself a yogurt.

"I wanted to talk to you." His voice was soft, as if trying to remember what it meant to be a good husband.

"What about?" she strolled over to the couch and sat beside him, facing straight ahead, not even giving him a glance. He huffed. There was no way he was going to break the barrier by conversation. She wouldn't have it. He needed something… _something _to open her up, to get her attention.

He grabbed her face in his hands and turned it to face him. Her eyes were small, but he could see a twinge of confusion in them, which gave him enough to show that she was still human… or at least, _kind of_ human. And he leaned in.

He kissed her, fully and forcefully on the mouth. She didn't react for some time, keeping her lips still and locked, but he was _not _going to give up. He pressed harder, tried harder, and she finally gave in, kissing him back just as passionately. He felt ease and relief flood throughout his entire being, convincing him that he was headed in the right direction. She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around him. They hadn't been this close in so long… not like _this_.

They stayed like this for some time… Freddie was relieved that he was the one who actually had to force himself away from her. She opened her eyes, and this time they were big, showing incredible worry and confusion. He smiled to himself, glad he succeeded in breaking _some _barrier. He smoothed her cheek with his thumb and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"You have _no_ idea how much I've missed you." Her mouth quivered. She couldn't speak, couldn't say anything, so he figured he'd just have to continue.

"I thought I'd never get you back…" she looked into his eyes, their closeness almost blurring her vision.

"Well, where have I been?" Freddie shrugged and kissed the top of her neck, right beneath her jaw.

"Away. But I don't know where. So why don't you tell me?" he moved down her neck and then back up. It felt good to _want _to be close to her again. But he wasn't sure if she felt the same way yet.

"Or you could tell me where _you've_ been instead of trying to seduce me." He stopped, pulling away very slowly. His eyes were now confused.

"Me?" her eyes saddened, and then got very angry very quickly. She nodded vigorously.

"Yes, _you_! Why now? Why is it that every time we have sex, you don't even look at me? You don't even do half the things you used to! It's just this one-dimensional thing that makes me crazy and keeps me from getting pregnant!" his mouth gapped, and he felt his throat burn with rage.

"I try! I try all the time, and you _don't want it_! You push me away, or you tell me to do something else, so I've just been trying to do what _you _want me to do! And maybe I'm just a little… _frustrated_… because you have me working like some kind of machine! We don't do it for fun, or because we love each other anymore and everything we do has to fit your stupid little calendar!" she sat up and backed away from him, feeling betrayed once again.

"_Stupid_? And see, this is the thing! You don't even _give a shit_ that I've been hurting and wanting something that was taken away from me! You don't care about having a kid, you don't care about having ten kinds… do you even care about me?" Silence. Freddie's lips formed into a tight line as his face reddened and his tears started to pool.

She was actually startled by his reaction. She hadn't gotten this much emotion out of him since… well… ever. His tears finally poured over, and instead of answering her, he turned to face the television and started to flip through the channels. She watched in horror as his shoulders shrugged and fell, as his neck pulsed in and out… she didn't know she had this much power… that she could still hurt him.

She bit her lip, unsure of what to do. Should she just watch and wait? Or address it? Approach him? She sighed.

"Are you going to answer me?" at that, his head snapped in her direction and his eyes went dark. He quickly reached into his back pocket to pull out a folded piece of paper, and held it out to her. She took it, looking at him as she slowly unwrapped it.

She looked at the paper, and her eyebrows rose in confusion. A name? That's all she got… a name?

"Who's Ron Badgely?" she felt her stomach drop. Ron _could _be short for Veronica. Maybe he was leaving her… She started to hyperventilate.

Freddie took the paper back from her and cleared his throat, his eyes still staring right through her.

"That will be the father of your child." Sam gaped, gulped, and shrieked, all at the same time. _What_?

"What the hell does that mean?" her voice cracked, but at least she got something out. Freddie rolled his eyes.

"Sperm donor. He's willing, you're obviously willing…" Sam continued to stare at him, wide-eyed. Tears started to slide down her cheeks.

"So ask me again how much I care about you."

"I don't want this!" she shrieked in a panic, and Freddie jumped, wide-eyed. "I don't want this! I never wanted _this_!"

"But you wanted a child, didn't you? At all costs! Didn't you want that?"

"No, you dumbass, I don't want _a _child! I want yours! That's all I've ever wanted!"

Freddie took a breath. _It hasn't seemed like that lately_…

"But you're convinced that _I'm_ the problem. Maybe this will work out for you…"

She started to cry harder, and Freddie's eyes faltered and softened.

"I'm sorry. I just… I don't know what to do, or how to _be_… I never told you this but… I was actually kind of happy when I was… when I was…"

"Pregnant?" Freddie completed for her softly, and she nodded.

"I was happy… because I love you so much… and I was scared… because I hate _me _so much… and I just… I can't stop hating me. I hate myself! I hate myself for what I've done to you, and her, and I hate me! And I just… I just want to hate _some _part of myself a little less…"

"Sam, there is no reason why you should hate yourself! Not for me, or her, or anybody! Don't you understand what a great person you are?"

She shook her head, her face becoming angrier by the second.

"What's so great about me? My mom hates me, I'm still mean to Gibby, I'm a fucking _screwup_!"

"Your mom doesn't hate you, you're not a screwup, and you're still mean to _me! _But… you're the most loyal person I've ever known, and the most honest…"

"I lied to you for years…"

"Yeah, well it worked out for us now, didn't it? Look," he pulled her face close to his again, and kissed her lightly.

"I wouldn't have married someone who didn't have the world spinning on her fingertips. Sam, you are beautiful, and wonderful, and you don't need a baby to feel that about yourself. I miss the Sam who cried and cared about nothing, who knew that she _is_ the world. And I know she's still there, but whenever this Sam comes around, I'll be here to hold her, because I know that she's just another beautiful part of my Sam, waiting for the rest of her to come around."

Sam started to form a sloppy smile, and then started laughing. She laughed so hard that her tears tripled. Freddie frowned, figuring he sent her fully over the edge, but when she surfaced, she smiled at him… like she used to.

"I have no idea what you just said, buddy, but I bet it was the biggest piece of crap a girl ever could hear."

He rolled his eyes and laughed with her. He got her. She was back… and in the way he least expected…

She kissed him full heartedly, knocking him down on the couch. She'd been so far from him for so long… and she didn't want to waste another minute.


	8. Chapter 8

The sun wasn't creeping through their window. It was shining, bright in her face. Normally, she would have yelled at Freddie for not shutting the blinds (hobos could see in and rob them, for pete's sake!), but today she was quite happy that the sun woke her up. That meant she could look at her husband as long as she wanted, without any repercussions.

Wearing only his tee-shirt, her legs entangled in his, her hand holding on to his, she just had to take it all in. He was _hers_, all _hers_, and she couldn't believe she refused to see that for almost a year.

It pained her when she thought about it… how much she hurt him… their relationship… but now things were good. She didn't have _just _him, she had _all _of him, and she decided that was more than good enough for her.

She studied the square of his jaw, the thickness of his muscular arms, and she smiled to herself. Here they were, man and woman, and she remembered a time when it was painful for her to think this far ahead. Truthfully, she always hoped she'd live happily ever after with him. Yet truthfully, she thought she knew she wouldn't.

She remembered the first time she "_told_" him she loved him. It was an incredibly frightening and deathening experience. She had never loved anyone the way she loved him, and she was consumed with fear and doubt. After all, he had just _stood _there while she put her whole heart on the line with one simple action.

But now there was no holding back for either of them. She had to admit there was something spectacular to this _marriage_ thing. She never saw herself as a married gal, but with Freddie there was just no other option. He was all she wanted, and she knew that, so why not oblige to his _crazy _demand for the sake of his happiness?

But having him here with her whenever she wanted… that was unbelievable. _Till death do us part._ Also unbelievable. She laughed as she pictured them old and wrinkled, but then frowned as she remembered that the majority of the elderly lived without teeth, and without such a necessity, there was life without meat. She slapped her hand to her forehead. _Why would she think of such a thing?_

The alarm clock sounded, and Sam leaned over Freddie's chest to look at the time. _3:45 pm_… wow, that was late… and they had something to do…

"Shit! Freddo, wake up! We were supposed to be at Carly's an hour ago!" She slapped his chest a few times, and that certainly got him started… "_What_…?"

"The barbeque! We got to get to the barbeque!"

Sam hopped over Freddie, not missing a beat, and started removing and pulling on clothes as fast as she could. Freddie looked at her, confused, before looking at the clock. His eyes widened and he immediately jumped up after Sam, pulling on every article of clothing he could find.

"I thought I set the clock for 10:30!" he glared at the alarm clock as if it was the stupidest thing he'd ever seen. Sam bit her lip, keeping to herself that she thought 10:30 was _waaaaay _too early for anyone to wake up, especially when they hadn't even gone to sleep until 4 in the morning. She completely forgot about the barbeque…

Freddie seemed to catch on. After all, he knew her better than anyone. "Sam, did you reset it?" his tone was rushed, but it had every hint of humor and no remnant of anger. Sam simply looked back to smile at him before running out of the bedroom door.

* * *

"You guys have NO idea how worried I was!" Carly exclaimed, blushed and panicked. Sam frowned as she brought a lawn chair to the center of the yard.

"Sorry, Carls. Lost track of time."

"Yeah, well next time when you decide how to loose track of time, _call me_! Or at least _respond _to my calls!"

Sam truly felt guilty. That was the downside to being an adult. She developed a conscience, and that conscience had new, overwhelming characteristics.

Freddie accompanied Sam on the lawn, waving to Gibby from afar. Gibby smiled and walked over to the two of them.

"So, can I get a congratulations or what?" both Sam and Freddie looked at him as if he had two heads.

"For what? Still being a stupid lump?"

"_Sam_…"

"No, Sam! For… I thought Carly would have told _you _guys before the barbeque…" Sam glared at Carly, who was now grilling hot dogs for the both of them. Spencer blocked her view by standing in front of her, grabbing Gibby by the shoulders. "Gibby, kid, congratulations! Heard the news!"

"Thanks, dude!"

"Wait, what news?" Freddie raised his eyebrows in frustration. If Carly had something huge to tell everyone, why wouldn't she tell her two best friends before she told her thousands of coworkers?

Sam looked behind Spencer to get a better view of Carly… and there it was… one huge, sparkly rock on her finger. Sam groaned.

"_Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!_"

"What, what?" Freddie whipped his head around, and finally saw what Sam saw. He smiled up at Gibby.

"Seriously? Gibby, that's awesome!"

"No it's not! Carly was supposed to marry a _normal _person! She had a chance!"

"_Sam_!"

"Isn't this getting old, Sam? And what's the big perk to being normal anyway?"

"I don't know. Maybe not being a Gibby."

Freddie rolled his eyes and mouthed an "I'm sorry" to Gibby before standing up to give Spencer a hug. Sam followed, distracted. Why wouldn't Carly tell her about something as _huge _as this?

"Glad to see you doing well, kido." Spencer whispered and gave Sam a tiny little noogie. She flinched before punching him lightly in the gut. She let go when she saw Carly finally coming over with their hot dogs. Sam growled.

"Skunkbag." Carly's eyes widened. She seemed to be extremely frightened of Sam's tone.

"What?"

"How could you not tell me you were engaged?" Sam's tone lightened a bit, but still had an edge to it. She hugged Carly before she could respond. "And seriously, to Gibby? Why?"

"Sam, stop, you know I love him."

"But what a weird man to love…" Carly laughed, and from what Freddie saw, she shook a bit nervously. He knew it. She was hiding something else.

"Well now that _everyone's _here, I really have some things to announce…"

"Y'know, a card would have done that just as well…" Sam still hung on to Carly for dear life. Freddie decided to join in for a few seconds, before pulling Sam along with him to let go. Carly looked from Sam to Freddie.

"Um, no, not really." Before they could question her further, she went to the front of the yard. They looked at Gibby, and he shrugged, following after Carly.

"Has everybody had something to eat?" They all nodded in contented murmurs, and Carly took a breath. "Good, because I have a few things to say." She took another breath.

"I'm getting married!" she exclaimed excitedly, and everyone cheered and wooed. Gibby wrapped his arms around her. "And having a baby!" there was a still silence, before her co-workers erupted into final "woos". The same couldn't be said about her friends. Gibby froze, looking as if he was about to faint, Spencer glared at Gibby, giving him a "I-will-kill-you-when-this-is-all-over" look, and Sam… well, Sam…

Freddie felt a knot in his gut as he slowly looked over at his wife. An outsider wouldn't be able to tell, but he knew better. She was hurt. This had twisted at her insides, at the wound that was slowly healing. Carly and Gibby? Having a baby? They weren't even _married_. How was this fair?

Freddie's heart was in his throat. Sam bit the inside of her jaw, trying to stay strong, but when Freddie grabbed her hand, her face scrunched up with sickness and disgust. She stayed silent, but Freddie knew, and he rushed with her inside the house, leading her to the bathroom. She collapsed in front of the toilet and he held her hair as she rejected the hot dog she just ate. She continued to heave, even with nothing left to throw back up, and she cried and screamed as Freddie stroked her hair, pulling her closer to his chest.

"Why wouldn't she tell me?" Sam cried into his shoulder as he rocked her back and forth, trying to soothe her. "Why'd she have to do it like this?"

"I know, I know…" at the moment, he hated Carly, and Gibby, and their stupid little baby. Carly could have warned Freddie, and he could have warned Sam. He would have sat her down, told her calmly… but _this_?

* * *

Freddie stormed out of the house, charging straight at Carly. Spencer was already screaming into the face of a befuddled Gibby, and Carly was trying to do her best to pull Spencer away, before Freddie grasped Carly by the arms and sped her around.

"Really, Carly? A barbeque? With a bunch of people that Sam doesn't even know? That's how you decide to enlighten us?"

Carly blinked back tears, shaking her head. "I didn't know how to tell her…"

"So you do this? What the hell is your problem?"

"Stop yelling at me! I didn't even tell Gibby, all right? I thought this was the safest way…"

"To WHAT? To not have to see her devastated face? She's even more hurt that you didn't tell her! She was getting better, you saw that, and you couldn't think of a better way to tell her, or _everybody_, for that matter?"

Carly looked at her feet and didn't respond. At that moment, Sam was approaching them from the house, and she yanked Freddie back a bit before lightly punching her best friend. "It's all right. Look, I'm… happy for you, all right? You're… having a baby… that's big news." Carly slowly looked up at Sam. Even she could see that Sam was still hurt, still disgusted, but she knew she was putting it all behind her just to be there for Carly. Carly wrapped her arms around her and cried.

"I didn't want to hurt you!"

"It's okay. You're gonna be a great mom."

"Sam, oh Sam!"

"Shush."

Freddie looked on at his two best friends with pain in his heart. This _wasn't _fair. Freddie and Sam were _settled _before they _almost _started a family, they had everything set… and here were Carly and Gibby, fumbling through life with newly made plans and everything would probably work out great for them. And maybe Freddie was selfish, and for once wasn't as selfless as Sam (which usually wasn't quite at all), but he didn't care. He wasn't happy about this, wouldn't be happy about this…

And all the times he prayed… well, that certainly didn't matter as far as he was concerned… if there was a god, he frankly didn't give a rat's ass about his prayers…


	9. Chapter 9

He watched with disgust as they shuffled around the small, cramped apartment, Carly's rounded belly protruding from an overly worn-out t-shirt, Gibby clumsily fumbling with paint buckets around their largest room, and Sam patiently painting Carly's toe-nails, just as Carly had done for her while she was pregnant. Sam seemed to have so much love in her. She loved her best friend so much, loved this future child so much, that she refused to think of what could have been for herself. Freddie had never seen this from her before.

And he couldn't say the same for himself. He looked back down at his newspaper, sitting on the farthest plastic-covered chair, avoiding eye contact at all costs. He hated this. He hated being there. It just _wasn't _fair.

This was _supposed _to be Sam! Sam was the one who should've been pregnant, should've had this joy without having to rush a simple wedding band on her finger. Everyone thought it was ironic. He could see it. They couldn't believe that he and Sam were the ones who had a successful church wedding, with a white dress and wedding bells and everything of the sort. They couldn't believe that Sam had actually gotten pregnant in wedlock, and they couldn't believe that Carly was the one who had eloped in a hurried manner, or that Carly was the one who made a major birth announcement before the wedding band was actually on her finger. They all figured Sam was the one who should've made all the mistakes. Sam was the wrong one, Sam was the criminal, Sam was the screw-up. He saw it in their faces. They should have moved out of Seattle when they had the chance.

It seemed that everything he had worked for, everything he had tried to do right, had all been in vain. He had made sure that he had a decent salary before he even _thought _of proposing to Sam, as young as they were. And he had made sure that once they were going to live comfortably, in a nicely sized apartment with a balcony view and so forth. And he made sure that she would be able to experience things happily. Although Sam often begged and whined that she did not want to be a forty-year-old virgin, he had made her wait until he had actually slipped the ring on her finger. The last thing he _ever _wanted was for people to continue putting Sam down. All her life, she was the wrong one, the criminal, the screw-up. He wanted her to know that she was more than that, and the best way to do that was to be cautious and careful. But in the end… where the hell did that get him?

He used to pray. He used to pray a lot. He'd thank God for putting his friends and family in his life, thanked God for Sam, and prayed for her wellbeing. And when she was at her worst, he prayed for her sanity. And that was granted to him, he was sure, and he was thankful, but this happened to be the final straw. As far as he was concerned, he would never pray again.

He didn't care what God did to him, didn't care what the hell happened to him… but _Sam_? What did she do to be tortured and teased like this, forced to put on a hell of a good front every day that only _he _saw through? Nothing, in his opinion. She did nothing wrong, and she couldn't have what she wanted. It wasn't fair.

"I have something to ask you both… and you're more than welcome to reject this, I won't be insulted… I'd understand." Carly had broke Freddie's silent thoughts, finally addressing the both of them, though he wouldn't acknowledge her. He continued to flip through his newspaper.

"Freddie?" Sam urged, wanting him to give Carly the respect she deserved. He didn't know it, didn't mean it, but he was making it harder.

"I'm listening." He looked up to smile lightly at Carly, and then looked back down at the paper. Sam tapped Carly's foot with a smile,

"Sure, what's up?" Carly smiled, looking from Sam to Freddie, though he couldn't see it.

"Well… I was thinking of naming her Maggie… if that's okay with the two of you." Sam gaped absentmindely and the nailpolish bottle slipped from her grasp, dripping over her knee. She hardly noticed.

Freddie froze. That name hadn't been spoken in so long… it was almost forbidden… Carly coughed in a panic, trying to correct herself.

"That was wrong of me and I shouldn't have asked. I just thought it would be a good way for… for her to know her cousin."

Still, neither of them said anything. But surely Sam would gently tell her no, that _she_ was still _theirs_, wherever she may be...

"I… I think that's a good idea, Carls." Carly lit up, and Freddie gaped. Did she just say what he thought she said?

And he saw it in her eyes. She was being a martyr, once again. A selfless, loving friend. The kind of friend he could probably never be to Carly ever again.

"No!" he finally managed to bark, standing up as he did so, rage filling him so completely. Carly, Sam and Gibby all looked up at him, frightened. He started to shake his head.

"No! No way! Over my dead body will you—_ever—_she's still _mine_, don't you know that? Mine, and _hers_!" he pointed to Sam, continuing to shake his head at Carly, "_Not _yours!"

"I—I didn't mean it that way, Freddie! I would _never _mean to replace her!"

Sam couldn't speak. She could just gap, watching ragged, threatened tears violently escaping his eyes.

"No way in hell are you taking her name! What, you get to have this stupid, fucking happy family and we get to be—what do we get to be? How the hell is this fair?"

"Dude, calm down… we didn't mean…"

"You watch your daughter die, and your wife, and then you can tell me, Gibson, to calm the fuck down!"

He stormed out of their apartment and slammed the door behind him, collapsing to the floor with his hands in his face, his body heaving up and down. So this was it… this was what Sam had been living with…

Freddie felt the wall behind him slowly disappear, and then quickly reappear again. A hand was removed from his face and taken into a small, strong and familiar one. He leaned into her chest, allowing himself to cry now that she was able to be his rock. He had spent so long allowing her to feel that he forgot to feel for himself. And this was it, all coming out now.

She petted his head and whispered soothing words into his ear, repeating that she loved him, that it was okay to feel this way, and that she was sorry for not being there for him, for not being able to hold him as he held her, but she was here now.

"I'm here now." She whispered again and kissed his forehead, rocking him. Freddie held her hand tighter, as if to say _I know. I feel you_.


	10. Chapter 10

_She gripped her hand tighter, but it wouldn't keep her awake. Sam's head lolled to the side, her face becoming paler by the second. Carly wiped her tears with her thumb and looked back through the glass window peeping into the hallway. She couldn't read Freddie's expressions, couldn't guess what the doctor was saying, but she knew it couldn't be good when Freddie stormed back into the room, obviously pissed out of his mind. Carly's eyebrows furrowed._

_ "The shithead is making us wait." He told her through gritted teeth, stalking to the opposite side of his wife. He looked at her face, saw the life slowly draining out of her…_

_ "Did she go out again? This isn't supposed to happen! No way in hell is this normal!"_

_ And at that moment, a gurgle started to escape Sam's mouth. She was choking. _

_ Carly couldn't breathe. She couldn't grasp what was happening. _

_ And Freddie was frozen as well. What—after all—could they do?_

_ It all happened so fast neither of them even knew what hit them. There was blood—everywhere—all over the bedsheets. _

"_Sam?" Freddie squealed, his voice barely recognizable. Carly still _couldn't _speak, couldn't register what was happening._

_ But she bolted, faster than she ever had before, screaming down the hallway for help. _

_And there was a rush of doctors and nurses and surgeons and who knows what else. And there were hands everywhere, pushing against her chest, __ejecting her from the room, their voices uttering foreign sounds._

_ "SAM!" she screamed, but her friend couldn't hear her. The door slammed shut._

She awoke with a start, beads of sweat dripping from her forehead. The room was pitch black, and she couldn't help but feel for her own stomach, to make sure that this was still real, that she was still there.

She slowly laid her head back on her pillow, with her best friend completely unaware that she relived her worst moment every night.


	11. Chapter 11

"I don't know, Sam… Are you _sure _you want to do this? I mean _absolutely sure_?"

She held the phone in between her shoulder and her left ear, bracing both hands on the door knob as she tried to open the ancient, forgotten closet. She heard him sigh.

"I really think you should wait 'til I get home. It's not going to be easy…"

"I know that! Does this sound like it's easy?" he did hear her struggling on the other end, even though she was the strongest person he knew. He rolled his eyes.

"No, I didn't mean getting the door open, Sam, though I'm sure that's difficult too…"

"For Christ's sake, I know what you meant. Can you just shut up for a second?" he groaned but did as he was told.

And she continued to yank and pull, her cheeks reddening as she did so. Her hair was up in a frizzy ponytail, which still couldn't keep her from feeling the drastic heat. She yanked more and more… and finally…

The door almost seemed to burst open, and inside this tiny, ancient and forgotten closet, were pretty and pink items piled so far up that she had to gap at its contents. She honestly… forgot.

She forgot how much people cared. She forgot how much she herself cared. She really just forgot.

"You got it open, didn't you?" she nodded, not like he could see. She reached on her tippy-toes to pull out a tiny piece of cloth.

"Okay, I got a bib with her name on it."

"Well that's a good one." She put it to the side and reached for another item. And another. And another. And so on. She continued to grab for items until—

"Oh, fuck me!" She could hear Freddie jump from his seat on the other end.

"What, what is it?"

"Why'd your stupid mother have to be so goddamn personal?"

"Why? What'd she do?" Sam sighed and glared at the music box. She debated on opening it, even though she remembered what it read.

"I'm still here, Sam. I'm right here." Sam huffed and finally opened the music box. That stupid, engraved message…

"_Dear Maggie,_" Sam sighed, and Freddie took a fearful breath, "_Soon you will be born and your gran will burst with glee. Your mommy and daddy will then sing with me. You are an angel's gift sent from above. I give you all my blessings and all your gran's love_. Crazy nut and her damn stupid rhymes." Freddie let out a faint laugh, though he knew Sam's last comment was more heartfelt than he'd like to admit.

"I'm sorry." He finally let out. Sam huffed and rolled her eyes.

"It's not your fault your mom's a nut."

"That was actually one of her saner ones. _I _thought it was a nice rhyme."

"Yeah, well _you _would." She could almost hear the smile forming at his lips.

"What's the matter?"  
"I can't re-gift this! That's the matter!"

"Sam…"

"I mean, God, she wasn't even born yet! Why the hell would she write this?"

"Sam…"

"We shouldn't have let Carly have the name! It was a stupid idea! Why'd we do it, Bensen? Why the hell did we do this?"

"Sam!" she finally stopped yelling, but continued to glare at the gift. "You don't have to give everything away. Throw stuff out if you feel like doing so."

"But I don't feel like throwing anything out, and I don't feel like giving anything away, but we need to get rid of this shit, Freddie."

"No we don't."

"The shower's a week away."

"So? You don't need to rush this."

"Rush? Hasn't it been two years, or am I mistaken?"

"Who gives a crap? Look, if you don't want to give the stuff to Carly… if that'll be too painful…"

"The name is painful, Freddie, but I need to learn how to deal."

There was silence on both ends for a while, as Sam stared at her cluttered bedroom floor.

"Leave everything where it is, and I'll pick this up with you when I go home." Sam didn't respond, contemplating…

"I need to deal, too, you know."

"I know." Silence again. Sam really couldn't bring herself to feel much.

"I love you."

"I love you, too. I'll see you later."

"Don't wait up."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"Promise." She smiled, and with a click of a button, she ended the phone call.

She really couldn't bring herself to stay in this room, not when it was like this… so she stalked over to the living room, landed face-first onto the couch, and entered into a soundless sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

This was definitely the wrong time to do this. She could have done so yesterday, or the day before, or even the week before. But somehow… she felt like this was now or never.

She promised herself that she would never pick up the thin and obnoxious object ever again, and her fingers trembled as she opened the box. But she was desperate… desperate to know if this was truly the end… the end of something that never was and never could be.

She cussed under her breath as her cell phone rang, dropping the small box and picking up her purple phone.

"Yeah?"

"Where are you? GIbby just told me you've been out of the room for half-an-hour! Carly needs you in there!" his voice was harsh, but she rolled her eyes.

"I had to pee. Tell the giant dork I'll be back soon."

"_Soon_? You were seriously peeing for thirty straight minutes? You know what can happen if you don't come back _now_, don't you?"  
"Obviously I don't. Can you just let me pee so that I can get out of here?"

"He's gonna make _me _stay and watch! _Me_! _I'd _have to watch Carly give birth!"

"Lucky you. Witness a miracle."

"Now I know you're not chickening out because we talked about this a long time ago, so if this is some twisted little joke of yours, I am _not_ laughing!"

"My god, Freddie, can you stop being a wuss and just let me pee? I'll be there, I promise!"

"But—!"

"Goodbye."

And so she hung up, and her eyes wandered back to the now open box. She sighed, her fingers trembling again, but she dove into that box, and finally did what she told her husband she set out to do.

And then she waited, holding the evil but oh-so-familiar object as far from her as possible. Deep sighs. Deep sighs.

If she wasn't, then this was it. This was the official end. She no longer had to fool herself into thinking that it was a possibility.

But if she was… she didn't fully process that yet. She didn't think she was ready for that.

Yet here she was. She could have chosen any other time, day or location to do this. But for some odd, mysterious reason this felt… right.

She closed her eyes and hummed a few songs that Freddie used to sing her to sleep with while she cried. Those songs usually made her calm… but right now… they didn't.

She pulled her arm closer to her, without opening her eyes, but it was time… she knew it was time… she felt it…

So she opened them…

She was.

* * *

The doors burst open, but Freddie didn't change his position… his feeble position… as Carly tried to calm him down.

"Ah, Sam, you got here!" Gibby's gruff voice exclaimed, and Freddie immediately leapt for joy and hugged her.

"Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" and when he pulled apart from her, he almost bolted out the door… but he saw her face…

"Sam? Are you okay?" he whispered, concerned, but she just nodded briefly with distant eyes and pushed past him to hold Carly's hand.

"I got cha, kid." She smiled at her friend, and then leaned forward to whisper a combination of mysterious words that Freddie couldn't make out. Carly looked up at Sam, her eyes enlarging as they watered.

"Oh, Sam!" she whispered back, and Freddie left the room, figuring that what was said couldn't possibly involve him.

* * *

The car ride home was oddly silent. Usually, Sam talked up a storm during car rides since she refused to let them bore her. Tonight, however, she was silent, and Freddie didn't quite know how to handle it.

"So… is anything wrong?" he saw her shake her head from the corner of his eye.

"So… tonight didn't bother you?" she shook her head. "Not one bit?" another shake.

"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" Nod. "Trick question. You've always thought newborns were hideous." He raised his eyebrows, and for a while he received no response.

"Sam?" she coughed a few times, as if to clear some barrier in the atmosphere that prohibited her from speaking.

"I'm not lying. She _is _beautiful. Because she's Carly's." Freddie smiled sadly to himself.

"You didn't get out of the room to pee, did you?" Sam sighed.

"No, I did." Freddie rolled his eyes. Was she honestly going to lie to him, now, after all they'd been through?

"Cut the crap, Sam. Your bladder takes a matter of seconds to explode, not forty minutes plus."

"Well what do you think I did? _Cry_?"

"Well, _did _you?"

"No, you dumbass!"

"Then what could you possibly—?"

"I'm late!"

Red light. Freddie finally looked at her.

"I'm sorry, _what_?" her face was reddening, and she bit her lip in what seemed to be anger.

"I'm _late_." Freddie froze. He didn't know how to react. His mouth quivered a few times as she withdrew a few angry breaths.

"_How late_?" he finally managed to spit out. She sighed and looked down at her feet.

"Like… three weeks."

"_Weeks_? And you didn't tell me?"

"Yeah, so sorry I didn't tell you what was going on with _my_ body!"

"It's as much of mine as it is yours, especially in dangerous situations like this, Sam!"

"I didn't know what to do, all right? This isn't exactly the first time this has happened…"

"Well, not for three _weeks_!"

"Freddie, can you _not _yell at me? Please?" he sighed and quieted. Green light. Eyes on the road.

"I'm sorry. I'm just worried…"

"I know." Silence again. He gulped.

"So… are you all right?"

"I don't know." Another long beat.

"We can adopt, you know. There are other options."

"We don't need other options."

"This isn't about what you want, Sam. This is about what you—wait—did you say _need_?"

She withdrew another angry breath and nodded. His eyebrows raised, and he was almost afraid to directly ask the question.

"Sam," he started but once again received no response, "you're… are you… are you pregnant?"

He saw her nod, and he immediately swerved to the curb.

"What the hell are you doing? Trying to kill us?"

"You're pregnant!" he shouted, his eyes wide with shock, and she nodded. "Oh my God!"

"Great! Now we're on the same page! Thank you!"

And he stared straight into the darkness again, gaping, not saying a word.

His life had, once again, changed as he had known it.


	13. Epilogue

_Ugh. Dammit. _She came up short… on a sandwich… on _food_… she rolled her eyes and took out a five dollar bill.

"This is all I got." The butcher sighed and removed about an extra pound and a half of meat that she had demanded of him.

All of a sudden, the door burst open and the butcher gave a sigh of relief. The woman tended to hold back from her typical violent tendencies when the boy was around.

"Mom, mom! I forgot to tell you, they've got a new meatball sub… with _twice _the amount of _foreign_ meat!"

The woman glared at the butcher, raising her eyebrows, but the butcher smiled right back at her. He wouldn't hide it today… he was smug… she wouldn't punch him in front of her son.

Sam sighed. "Is your father outside?"

"No, Dad went to see the new tech shop around the block. Did you know that they have five brand new—!"

"Ughhhhhh. Do you want the meatball sub or not?" _Right. Dad's for geek. Mom's for food._

The boy looked at the counter, and then back at his mother.

"No, I thought you would want it… I'd be fine with anything, as long as it has meat."

"Well I'm not hungry so you're getting a salami palooza."

"_Yes_!" he started to jump around, but then he realized something… his mother… _not hungry_?

He looked at the counter. A five dollar bill. It figures. His mother was never big on saving money.

He smiled, dug into his pocket, pulled out a ten dollar bill and placed it on the counter. Then he pulled out a twenty dollar bill and held it out to his mother. She gaped at him.

"Dude! How does an eleven year old boy like you wrack up big bucks like this?" he smiled, smug and proud.

"I have my ways…"

She smiled, proud of her son and his mischievous ways, and folded the 20 back into his hand.

"Lesson number five hundred and sixty two: _don't_ give to the needy. But I will gladly order this meatball sub."

And so the boy rolled his eyes. Honestly, his parents were such polar opposites that at this point he had to _choose _who to believe in order to survive.

* * *

With her sub in one hand and her son in the other, Sam Bensen was being dragged to the last place she thought she would even stand _in front of_. She groaned and protested, but the bottom line was that she would do anything for her one and only.

"Mom, it's sooooo cool, I promise!"

"You know what else is cool? Me waiting in an air-conditioned car for you two geeks…"

"_Mom_!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. _You're _not that much of a geek."

"That much?"

"Sorry, kiddo. You still got your father's DNA in you." Little Spencer chuckled, and Sam stopped in her tracks to glare at him.

"_What_?"

"You said DNA. That makes you a partial geek today."

"Ah chizz!"

"Don't worry, Mom, I said _partial_."

"It still hurts, Spence. It hurts bad." At this point, they reached the tech shop, and Sam finished the meatball sub in one last chomp. Spencer continued to drag his mother into the shack, even though she wasn't fighting him on it, and he found his father at the counter, talking to one of the information consultants.

"Actually, this tiny little thing is an 85 megapixel. I know it's hard to believe but it's the truth, so you really should change your advertising…"

Spencer hugged his father tightly. He couldn't resist, and Freddie's face lit up as he looked down at his son and hugged him back.

"My man! Do you _see _this place?"

"I see it! I see it! And look who I brought?" Freddie turned around and mock-gasped. Sam rolled her eyes.

"Could it _be_?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm only here because he bought me food."

"Liar! You're here because you _loveeeee _us!" Freddie smiled, smug, and Spencer crossed his arms. Sam rolled her eyes, but a smile began to form.

"Yeah, yeah, that too."

Freddie's smile turned into a loving one, and he placed a hand over Spencer's head.

"So did you get to eat something good, too, or did Mom just inhale it all for herself?"

"No, mom got me a Salami Palooza! And that angry butcher guy had to make it a triple decker! Mom _made _him!"

"Nice!"

"I know, right?" and then the father and son proceeded to look at all the different types of equipment.

Sam stood in the background. She couldn't help but smile at the scene. There was a point where she never thought she'd get here, but she loved it. She loved her life.

* * *

"Mom, Spencer's looking at me weird!" Maggie shouted from across the table. Spencer's eyes widened, and he continued to look at his "friend" from all different angles. Sam slapped Spencer on the back of the head and put the mashed potatoes on the table.

"Cut it out. She'll chop your head off any second."

"She can't take me!"

"You're a _child_, Spencer!"

"And you're ugly, _Maggot_!"

Carly rolled her eyes and sat at the table as well, carrying two cases of fried chicken. Spencer's face lit up.

"Can't you two just get along?" Carly asked, smiling at Spencer.

"We _could_… but I'd rather not." Spencer smirked. Carly raised her eyebrows at Sam, who sighed. She honestly didn't see anything wrong with Spencer's teasing, but then again, this _was _Maggie.

"Spencer Fredward Ryan Bensen, you need to stop." Sam "scolded" half-heartedly. Carly rolled her eyes, but knew it would have to do.

Freddie and Gibby emerged into Carly's dining room from the kitchen, along with two miniature Gibby boys. They both took seats next to their sister, who kissed them both on the forehead. If Maggie wasn't Carly's daughter, Sam would have barfed at her kindness.

"Go ahead, Maggot, kiss the only boys you ever _will_ kiss."

"Hey, Spence, cut it out!" Freddie scolded, and Spencer lowered his head. His father was obviously the stern one.

Maggie stuck her tongue out at Spencer, who didn't dare retort again. A sly smile started to form on Carly's lips.

"You know who used to argue, just like that, all the time?" Spencer raised his head, and he smiled at the woman he called his "aunt", ready for an interesting tale.

"Who?"

"Your mom and dad." Maggie smiled, and looked from Sam to Freddie.

"They did?"

"Yep. I hated him." Sam smiled proudly and nodded at Freddie. Freddie smirked too, seeing where this was going.

"So what happened?" Maggie asked, incredibly interested. She was quite a hopeless romantic, who loved every kind of tale of love. Sam laughed.

"Nothing. I still hate him." Spencer laughed and rolled his eyes, and Freddie did so as well.

"Hey Mags, have you ever heard that when a boy rags on a girl, it means that they actually like them?" Maggie eyes had gotten a mischevious glint, and she stared at Spencer across the table, taunting him.

"Oh, is that so?"

"No! I wasn't ragging on a _girl_! I was ragging on _that_!"

"Trust me, Spence, that's a harsh road to go down. You start of by ragging on _that_, and then _that _becomes a person, and then you fall in love with that person, and then you end up getting married, have a kid… yep, say hello to your future. I might as well pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Spence-and-Mags Bensen."

"Ew!"

"Gross!"

"Never!"

"He's a _child_!"

"You're _twelve_!"

"Cut it out, you two. You can't fight it. Just let it be." Sam teased as she tore off a huge chunk of Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Maggie lowered her head and started to cut her chicken with a knife. She sniffed with an offended air.

"And just so you know, _plenty _of boys have wanted to kiss me. I just haven't been ready yet."

"Doubt it."

"Hey, what do you mean by _plenty_?" Gibby barked, nervously and defensively. But neither responded, because Spencer knew that _plenty _meant none.

Freddie and Sam couldn't help but look up at each other, with amused expressions of understanding.

* * *

Sam tucked in both sides of Spencer's Galaxy Wars bed covers, and he smiled, staring at the red and blue rocket ship on his ceiling. Spencer looked at his mother, who looked oddly serious. He started to frown and wonder…

"Do you ever wish you had her?" Sam looked at her son, confused. He sighed. "Like… instead of me?"

She leaned down to kiss both of his cheeks. "Never. _You_ are my greatest blessing." He smiled, feeling assured.

"I pray for her every night, you know." Sam stared at him, not quite sure how to take that. "She's still my sister… isn't she?"

"In a way, I suppose." She smiled sadly at him, and he smiled back at her.

"I know you feel sad about it sometimes… and that's okay. Everybody gets sad. I get sad, too. But you don't need to hide it… you know… being sad…"

Sam grabbed both of his shoulders abruptly, in order to stop him.

"Stop. Do I get sad about it? Yes. But then I look at you… and I'm the happiest, and proudest I ever could be." His lips formed into one thick line, embarrassed, but there was a hidden smile in his almost watered eyes.

"You got one hell of a heart, kid, and let me tell you, you didn't get that from me." Spencer shook his head to disagree with her, because to him, his mother had the best heart in the world. She just didn't know how to show it too well.

"Dad reads me a poem. Did he ever tell you that?" Sam smiled and shook her head.

"He's probably afraid I'll laugh at him." Spencer laughed and shook his head, and took out a small paper.

"Read it. And then you can keep it. It'll get you through the tough days."

Sam took the paper from him, and began to read.

"Often when we watched her there

From our lips there fell this prayer

'God give us pain to bear!

Let us suffer in her place,

Take the anguish from her face

Soothe her with Thy holy grace.'

Then the angels came, and they

Took her lovely soul away

From the torture house of clay.

As we prayed, they brought release,

Smoothed her brow with gentle peace,

But our pain shall never cease.

Ours is now the hurt to bear,

Ours the anguish and despair,

Ours the agony to share!

When our hearts with grief were stirred,

Thus we prayed and thus we heard,

Shall we fail to keep our word?"

Sam's voice broke as she read it, but she cleared her throat at the end and folded it. "This is a horrible poem." She handed it back to Spencer, who put it back in his drawer.

"It isn't about who you think. It's not about her."

"Then… who is it about?" Spencer held his breath for a few seconds, as his chocolate brown eyes tried to judge his mother's reaction.

"You." Sam held her breath this time, not sure of what to say or how to take this. "Dad prayed every day when you were sad. And then you had me. And now me and him pray together, and I thought maybe you'd like to pray with us too."

Tears escaped Sam's eyes, and Spencer jumped to hug his mother and hold her as she wailed.

"Why are you so good? I don't deserve you!" Spencer brushed her hair with his hands and kissed the top of her forehead.

"You deserve everything, Mom. That's what we prayed for."


End file.
